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Thursday, December 31, 2009

Despite the energy, the craziness, the excitement, everything that's going down this New Year's Eve, I can't help but miss everyone who's not here. So instead of talk about the new year, I'm going to think back. So it's time to make some lists. Keep in mind, these won't make sense. The jokes, the songs, shows, movies, even if they're not from this year, they had an impact on me in 2009, and I'm sure they'll continue to in the new decade.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Feeling inspired to write by my cousin Jeremy's wife, Veronica. She announced this Christmas to her in-laws, my extended family, that she's preggos. So my props go out to Vern and Jeremy. I, honestly, cannot think of anyone else more suited to be parents. She has a fantastic blog herself (Vern, I'm talking about) and just started one to record what's going on with the pregnancy. Seeing that she has blogged 24 times in December alone is two things: a major inspiration and a self-esteem murderer. I don't know if I will ever be able to do a blog post a night, pretty much every night. I'd love for my blog to be that way, though. And I made it a New Year's Resolution last year to blog at least once a week - a resolution on which I completely and totally failed. But a review of those (and a new list) is yet to come.

I suppose I feel forced, for some reason, to talk about where I am and what I'm doing rather than just my random thoughts or opinions. Of which there are many. But a lot is happening these days. I guess, actually, a lot has been happening since late May. Fools, birthday, ending school, moving, doing all that madness over the summer (which I still haven't blogged about. Hermph), moving here, settling in. And before we knew it it was October and December exams and now here we are on Christmas break. God, how the time has flowwwwn.

I also may give the blog a re-vamp. I'll try that out.

So for now, since I should be getting to bed, I'll tell you I'm in DC, with my Dad and Tony, doing New Year's. Then back to Canada and kick off the rest of 2010. Happy New Years, folks!

Friday, December 18, 2009

Things that have been on my mind this "Holiday Season". I don't want an answer to these questions. I just want to send them out into the universe and hope I find some answers myself.

The stand-up comedian, Jim Gaffigan, once did a skit where he talked about what led to the creation of the ridiculous traditions we follow at Christmas. "Okay, cut down that tree, put it in here. Take all these lights, and put 'em out theeere." And that decorating for Christmas sounds like the behaviour of a drunk guy. "'Honey, why...is there a...pine treeee...in our living room?' 'I LIKE IT! And we're gonna, we're gonna, we're gonna decorate it...fer Jesus. And then I'm gonna hang my socks over the fireplace. Fill 'em with candy...maybe I'll tie some leaves to the ceiling, see if I can get some action.'" It is weird, you have to admit.

Though there are millions and millions of Christmas songs in the world, there are none or few Hannukah songs. People out there are Jewish. Are they just not the ones making songs for the Holidays?

Why do we hang icicle lights from our roofs? Sure, they look pretty, but icicles would never actually appear on houses south of the Arctic, unless you were really unlucky. Who are we fooling?

Another thing about outside-light-decorating. If one person on the block doesn't do it, everyone looks at their house and shakes their heads and privately wonder why they don't have any gosh-darn Christmas spirit. But they never stop to consider that maybe that person isn't going to be in the country for Christmas. Or that they didn't have time, energy, or an outside outlet with which to decorate.

Someone said "Merry Christmas" to me for the first time this season. How do we decide when to start saying that? December 18th seems uncharacteristically late for society, but if someone says it around the 10th, we would scoff and then freak out that Christmas was only 15 days away and we hadn't bought anyone presents yet.

When you live far away from relatives, and your parents are divorced, and your brother is away at college, you often end up having three or four Christmases. This happened to us last year (Trinidad, DC, and lastly Michigan for the real day) and the whole magic and mystery of Christmas from when we were kids was gone by the time the 25th rolled around.

About that magic and mystery of Christmas as a kid. The best part of Christmas for me was sneaking into my brother's room at 4 am to wake him up and tell him it was Christmas and to find him already awake, reading a book and glancing at his clock every five minutes. We would hang out until around 7, when we deemed it late enough to go get our parents, who would inevitably groan and have to make coffee and get the cameras before we could start. We would watch them take every sip of their coffee, waiting until that last drop, when our dad would turn to our mom and say, "Wanna get started?" And the sad thing is, that's all over now.

Remember the days when we had no idea what we were getting for Christmas? I can list four or five things I know, for sure, I'm getting this year. When did that happen?

It's Christmas. No, it's not, it's December 18th. But we call the entire season "Christmas", don't we? Or "The Holidays", or "The Holiday Season", if you're being PC. In an ideal world, Christmas would be December 24th, 9 pm, until December 25th, 11:59 pm.

Christmas is supposed to be the time when we come together as loved ones, and show how much we appreciate each other. Why do we have to have a stressful, loud, caffeine and sugar-fueled international holiday on which to do this?

They say that Christmas is the hardest time to be away from the people you love. For me, it's Halloween and New Years. For three years in a row, Jamie and I had our amazing "Last MSN Conversation of 200_", consisting of only emoticons and ending with o) and IHP. Then, two minutes after the clock struck twelve, we called each other and yelled and screamed. And Halloween - I don't think it's going out on a limb to say that it's the Core's (if not, definitely Ed's) favorite holiday. Not being able to dress up, go Trick-or-Treating (and be yelled at to sing for our candy), and take a zillion pictures with those guys made that holiday the hardest so far. And I'm not feeling that about Christmas.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Jeez. People are mad at me for not blogging. Be HAPPY, readers, I'm in a good mood so I won't bitch at you too much for being mean to me. But, I have to say, there's a SHITLOAD I could write about. SOO, I'm just going to make a list of things that are going on in my life. General, everyday things, nothing deep, nothing about my past. Just things you want to know. So enjoy.

Ooh, by the way, the reason this post is called "Hot Child In The City", is after the Joan Jett song, which, for some reason, played OVER AND OVER when I was cleaning my bathroom, and because I was all gross and soapy, I didn't want to touch Flamingo to skip the song. It's kind of become a theme for my mom and I. Plus, now I'M a hot child in the city. Hells yes.

I've been doing a lot of tidying up lately. Yes, I have lived in this house for a month now, so it's a bit late to be doing those final boxes or chores around the house. But we've had something to do every weekend, and this past weekend was no different. We spent all day Saturday raking our asses off in the backyard, along with hauling wood from one pile to another. Then, Sunday, we shopped for and planted tulip bulbs. My favourite flowers, I've never had tulips before, and now we finally can grow them in our very own backyard. Aside from the outdoorsy chores, there are the indoorsy ones too, including the awful ones like #2 and the BITCHIN' ones like organizing my desk, closet, and dresser.

I am inclined to count this as a separate point, because even though it falls under the house category, it is not fun, entertaining, or relaxing. This is the task of bathroom cleaning. It sounds awful, it makes me sound pampered and spoiled, but I haven't thoroughly cleaned a bathroom in an awfully long time. This was one of those all out, scrub the entire room, kind of things. I won't get into the details, but let's just say, it wasn't the sponge turning the water that funny colour when I was cleaning the shower.

ON A DIFFERENT NOTE, School is insane these days. December exams (we had a set in October too) are only 3 and a half weeks away, and it's the usual ZOMFG Teacher Moment, where they mercilessly assign us a shitload all at once. So next week, and the week after that, are filled with big intense time-consuming projects. Luckily, I've recently been gifted the gift of time. See #5.

Speaking of school, we found out today that our school has been threatened in some way. Apparently, someone wrote on a bathroom wall in one of the school's buildings that...bad...stuff will happen this coming Sunday. I don't know if they know and aren't telling us, or if they just don't know, but the teachers aren't saying what bad stuff we're to expect. Now, supposedly, this happens every year, and sometimes a couple times a year, but usually on April Fool's Day. Of course, the school can't "take it lightly", so things are a little uptight at school starting today and going til Tuesday - security guards hanging around (contrary to ISPS, this isn't a normality), and classroom doors being locked during class. No one's very worried, and I'm not either. I just can't stop thinking how Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets this sounds ("her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever" - remember that?).

After two months of living here, you'd think I'd be aces at the public transportation system. Quite the contrary. About a week ago I took my first ever Winnipeg bus ride, with a friend on the way to spend the night at her house. I'm now at the point where I'm taking a bus ALL ALONE home after school. It's weird being so independent. I like it, don't get me wrong, but trying out this whole new system was and still is terrifying. I've heard horror stories about people who tried to get to my school, the University of Winnipeg, and ended up at the University of Manitoba, about 40 minutes away from the right school. But overall, this bus thing is pretty bitchin'. It's fun, and it saves me so much time in afternoons, in comparison with walking to my mom's office and waiting for her til 5:00 and driving home (expect a post about that later).

Sorry to keep talking about school, but I feel I should give the low-down on a couple of my classes. This year, I'm taking Drama, Creative Writing (called Trans Forms, officially), Canadian History, English (called Literary Focus, officially), Pre-Calculus, and Spanish.

Drama is fun and just plain Drama-y. I'm getting 100%, not much to complain about.

Creative Writing has some of the best people. We have a kickass time in that class, and some fun things, like poetry and playwriting are to come. I worry sometimes that the constant assignments are stealing my "creative juices", but I can't bitch, it's a lot of fun and an opportunity I know Jamie and maybe Eddie would love to have.

Canadian History. Well. I was enraged at first, and still a little peeved, that the school thinks their kids can get by without only knowledge of Canadian History. There isn't even the OPTION for American or World History. I was so worried about falling insanely behind (having ZERO knowledge of this country's past). I know we complained about our Modern World History class, but without that, I'd be pretty screwed for...life. That said, this class also has some pretty fun people and is a lot of fun. The teacher, recognized school-wide as "the short, mean one" can be pretty strict, but can cackle every now and then.

I have to say, Ms. Chesler, I miss you. My English teacher this year is a bit of a prick - and my mom agrees, which says something. He's picked some good books and plays this year (A Doll's House, The Great Gatsby, Macbeth, The Glass Menagerie, 1984, and a couple others), but I hate his learning style (and his MLA-format obsessed ways), and I think he imposes his opinion on us a lot of the time. I'm trying to suck it up and deal, but it's pretty tough, and makes me ache for the days when Ches taught the un-seaming scene of Macbeth by standing barefoot on a chair with a stick and stabbing at the air victoriously.

Pre-Cal. Pre-Cal, Pre-Cal, Pre-Cal. Whenever I think about my teacher in this class, I think of him going "Ohhhkay". He's very chilled, very lax, and seems mostly concerned with us understanding the information. He's good. I'll give him that. He goes a little fast, but he hasn't yelled or even gotten annoyed once the entire two months. I'm a bit worried about our upcoming test, on what I'm dubbing "The Seven Deadly Sins Equations". My favourite moment from class so far: after my teacher FOILed something out on the board, I asked if we could just use the stacking method instead. He had me come up to front of the room and do that on the board, and when I was almost done, he sighed, and said, under his breath, "Ohh, that's cool."

Spanish - though I'm usually exhausted by the time I get to this class at the end of the day, it's a nice throwback to lovely simple 8th grade Spanish I, and our five (sometimes six) person class has some good times.

There. Yes, I talked about school a lot, but cmon, to whom is that NOT a big deal? Hope you people are happy.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

So, my dearest friends, I feel I owe the world (or my three? four? readers) an explanation for my, and there's no other way to say it, shitiness as a blogger recently. I've done two new posts in the last four months. I'm extremely ashamed. I made a New Year's Resolution to blog at least once a week, and need I say that that is one resolution I definitely haven't kept. So, first thing's first:

SORRY, WORLD!

Sorry to the Trinidad folks who have no clue what's going on in my life other than the snippets they hear on Facebook and MSN. Sorry to the lovely Ugandan traveler who is unfortunately not here to kick my butt into writing but probably wants to hear about how her table is doing. I realize now (four months too late) that I should have left a "hiatus" note on my blog after my 15th birthday post. I didn't know I would get so little time (or, to be honest, have so little enthusiasm) to blog over summer and the settling-in period.

Things are finally calming down a little bit here. Having gotten our wireless internet set up, we have gone from having one crappy US State Department-issued laptop, to living in a hotspot (making Flamingo so happy his increasingly-sucky speakers are squeaking more than usual). I hope to get back into what I thought was a good blogging routine from Trinidad.

There's a lot to talk about. There's the Swan Song post (which I promise, Jamiekinz, to not actually call "The Swan Song" cos that'd just be mean stealing), the Leaving TNT post, the approximately one MILLION posts I could write about my summer, all the settling-into-Canada posts, the Tony-leaving post, the My-New-School post. You guys. I have my work cut out for me. To make it easier, I'll try and date things appropiately. This might be a bad idea. Hhm. Like, if you see July 1st, for example, assume I mean all of July. But I'll explain it when we get to that.

So, folks, I apologize once again. I hope this will stop Eddie from cyber-abusing me and my conscience from mentally abusing me. If I'm not forgiven, however, feel free to spam me.

PS: Expect lists. Lots of lists. Okay, I'll try and keep the lists to a minimum. Maybe lists where each point is a paragraph? (Yeah? YEAH? YAY!)

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Blending in. Having lived in Trinidad, and Bangladesh before that, for six years total, Americans tend to stick out like a sore thumb. Especially for me and my mom, who, being blonde, tend to be the anomaly among locals. Some Deshis had never even see people with blonde hair, and would frequently come up to us and stroke it. Canadians, for the most part, look like Americans. On the street, we don't look at all out of the ordinary, until we start pointing at street signs and whipping out maps to cure our extreme lost-ness.

The seperation (of church and state. No, just kidding) of the city, with suburbia. It's very clear, on every map, that what is north and west of the two rivers (Assiniboine and Red, which intersect at an area called the Forks) is the city, a place of work, and if you live there well then you're just plain weird. South or east of the rivers, that's where you live, no question about it. And even though they claim to have different neighborhoods (for instance, Tuxedo, the fancy, Grosse Pointe [Michigan] area; vs. Woolsely, fondly known as "Granolaville"), the suburban neighborhoods blend together to form one endless mass of houses, punctuated by the occasional school.

Though Canada claims to be bilingual, it is not so to an obnoxious point. Miami drove me crazy, because it seemed like, although we were in America, Spanish was favored, and it was like an endless war between the two languages. Here, in what is not technically the French part of the country, both languages are equal in favor when it comes to street signs, but yet it's not overwhelming. So I don't feel like shrieking at these poor people to pick a goddamn language.

The repetition of two kickass restaurants, Subway, and Tim Horton's. For those who don't know, Tim Horton's is basically a Starbucks, but less corporization-y. It's very popular in the Northern US (Michigan had tons) and Canada, and it appears that the people here run on it. That, combined with the deliciousness of Subway sandwiches (in comparison to the ONE in all of Trinidad), makes Robin a very happy camper. I get an Iced Capp, along with a Turkey Breast on Parmesan Oregano, American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, black olives, and honey mustard. Damn, now I'm hungry.

Last, but most definitely not least, and you'll chuckle, but it's true - I am the same color, if not darker, as some of the people here. We all joked I would be tan in comparison to Kanucks, and I hate to break it to you, but in some cases, that has turned out to be true. Hells yeah.

Friday, September 4, 2009

I sleep differently here. In Trinidad, you are lulled to sleep by millions of frogs, crickets, and who knows what else chirping at you through your window, mere feet from your head. It becomes white noise, and that, combined with the air conditioners undoubtedly installed in every room in the house, provide a quiet blanket of noise for you all night long.

In Winnipeg, it's different. I haven't lived downtown in a city for so long, I've forgotten what it's like. We hear sirens going at all hours, either because Canadians are particulary accident-prone, or simply because we (apparently) live close to a fire station. Whatever the reason, these sirens, combined with the occasional shouting or thumping coming from floors above and below us, don't make it particulary harder to sleep. It's just different. Compared to falling asleep knowing nature is all around you, this concrete jungle, though not as impressive as New York or London, has its own city personality and the Peggers love it anyways.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Tomorrow, June 19th, is my 15th birthday. Time to look back on all the events that have happened in my 14th year of life, which began at the end of 9th grade last year. Sorry to post yet another list, but we're in exam crunch time, and I don't think I have the capacity to do an all-out post.

Firstly and most obviously, my parents got divorced. A year ago was when I found out, and about 8 months ago, it became official. This has effected my life in so many ways, it's hard to count. My mom and I have become a ton closer, and my dad and I fight way less than we did when he lived with us.

I met the Core. Well, I've known Eddie and Jamiekinz since 8th grade, but we've added Maestro. I think we've become really close this year (we even named ourselves), through Fools, exam crunching, and spending every break and lunch in Ches's room, which has become our little hangout. I don't think I need to say exactly how much these guys have changed my life. I wouldn't be able to fit it into this list anyway.

I became chums with my brother. In The Sunscreen Song, he tells us to "Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future." And he's fully right. Our brothers and sisters have been there since birth, and every person we've known and every major event we've gone through, they'll remember. So my and Tony's relationship has fully changed over this past year, and I'm so glad that it did, before he goes off to college.

We moved houses. The move from Fairways to Westmoorings completely changed my life, and allowed me to befriend a whole new group of people (see number 5). It majorly lowered the stress level in everday tasks, and chilled us out. It gave us the ability to go, "Hey, Mom? Can I go to James' to study after school today?" and not have to worry about how you're getting home, can we get a driver, traffic, that madness.

I got tight with another group of people - Amanda, Maria, and Tara. Though they're fun to hang out with as a group, I got to know them individually moreso this year (and living half a block from Manda didn't hurt). I learned that while no one could ever replace the Core, knowing people outside of our group is a lot of fun.

I got my braces off. They were put on in May of 8th grade, and though I despised them much of the time, a lot of my old insecurity issues about my teeth are now gone. And now I wear the hidden badge of honor, the permenant retainer, the only indication that someone has been through the hell that is braces.

I lost some really close friends, in particular, Nora. Her leaving was one of the hardest things that's happened to me in a while, but I think having such kickass friends really helped me pull through it. I remember driving away from her house after saying bye, sobbing into my hands. Tara and Maria hugged me and promised to take care of me, and they did. I'll always be grateful to them for that.

A big portion of this year for me was spent dealing with my man issues. They were finally resolved a couple days ago, and life seems a lot simpler now. But it's about to get much more complicated, when it comes time to make the decision about what to do when I leave. Not-so-deep-down, though, I already know the answer.

Three teachers in my life crossed the student-teacher-relationship line, and became like parents away from home: Ms. Chesler, Lentzy, and Kaster. The first two I've known for two years, and the third only for one, but these teachers made this school year bearable for me, whether it was listening to my every problem and reading my blog faithfully, discussing current events and when the world will destroy itself, or being an all-around good teacher, who taught me more than I thought would fit in my head.

I became more of an actress than I have before. Working with Mr. Levy through two productions, and being in his Drama class all year, I think I've gained some valuable skills that I won't quickly forget. I found my niche there for a while, being in the play and following that schedule, and I came to find that I like it. A lot.

I found some creative outlets. My blog, photography, even decorating my room, all help me relieve stress, and though I'm still not a fabulous painter or drawer like my friends, I think I now express myself in my own way, and I'm perfectly content with that.

I learned that you should never forget your roots. Sometimes we get so caught up in the everyday, where we are now, or where we want to be, we never think about where we came from. I slapped childhood memorabilia across my mirrors, created a memory box of special things from my life, and stuck pictures of my parents into a locket which I now rarely take off. I know I need to be aware of the future, but if you forget your past, it's like forgetting who you are, and I don't want my wacky lifestyle to do that to me.

I started thinking about the world outside of my laptop. I've begun caring about things like politics, the economy, international affairs, things I never thought about while living in Dhaka. I've dropped my naivety about the world, and I've realized what's really going on out there. I don't tune out every time I hear Wolf Blitzer rant, because I care now, something I didn't do at 13.

I've learned new ways to define myself. I've decided my opinions on important topics, so now I can safely call myself a pro-choice, Democrat, pro-gay rights, feminist, athiest teenager. Especially that last one - I have formed my own opinions of religion, instead of floating along saying "Uhh..I don't...have one?". This has drastically changed me and the way I precieve the world.

Canada happened. I know by the time I move there, I'll be 15, but all of this, the pre-Canada? That all happened while I was 14, and if I may say so myself, I've dealt with it (or I will deal with it) better than some 14-year-olds I know would or could. I've mentally prepared for a whole year that this is my Trini tour coming to an end, and now it's crunch time, when I actually have to live through it. Living here has changed my life. Just look at what's happened in one year of being here, let alone all three.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Our Detroit Tigers were scheduled to play against the Chicago White Sox today, but because of rain in Chicago, the game was delayed by three hours. While hanging out in our living room, my mom and I (sans Tony, he was at Lucas') did a whole mess of things to occupy our time, like:

I took off my red nail polish (left over from prom) and put on black. Dr. K. makes goth comments whenever I have black nails at school, but they give me a weird kind of condfidence that other colors can't.

WGN, the channel meant to be showing the Tigers game, showed old retro shows while we waited. Today, they were showing "I Dream of Jeannie", a show I've never watched before but instantly fell in love with. The show is about a woman, Jeannie, who is literally a genie in a bottle. She has to pretend to be married to her "master", the guy who found her lamp. She can use all her genie powers by simply nodding her head, but she has to keep it a secret. Hilarity ensues.

An episode of Wife Swap (we had to leave the TV on all afternoon, waiting for the game, hence all the TV on this list) was on, where an etiqutte teacher switched places with a mom who couldn't care less about keeping clean. This spawned conversations about who in our extended family would switch with whom, and what type of woman would my mom switch with.

In planning my/Maria's birthday/going away party, I made a list of songs we MUST have played at the party, including, "Don't Stop Believing", by Journey, and "Africa", by Toto - this spawned (I used that word once already. Ah well) a *heated* conversation with Eoin about what constitutes a boring party. I refuse to allow five hours of soca at my party, since it all sounds the same, but he claims too much retro music is lame. HERMPH!

My mom, feeling slackish for sitting in front of the TV for so long, decided that during each adbreak, she would organize something. So far, she's done end tables, the desk from the kitchen, and the TV cupboard full of casettes.

We watched the last section of Grease - "We'll Always Be Together", and "You're The One That I Want" - complete with "hoo-hoo-hooo, HONEY"ing. 'Nuff said.

I discovered that my Dad pre-ordered Sims 3 for me back in December as a Christmas present. He had forgotten to tell me, and I only found out today when my mom CASUALLY dropped it into conversation. Read posts below (i.e. So you've got the God Complex) if you don't already know about my addiction to Sims. That should give you an idea of how big this news is to me.

Shada lazed around, acting like the cat she thinks she is. Her mood this afternoon reflected ours.

I realized that every once in a while, you should just take a day. I know this is prime exam studying time, and that that's what everyone else I know is doing, but before I get into The Crunch, I'm taking today as my relaxing day, and it's been pretty fabulous, rain delays and all.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Every three years, we pack up and move to a new place. We leave our current post in late June, after school gets out. My birthday + exams + packout + school ending = one hell of a June. I call it the Junebug. Everyone is hyped up and stressed out (mostly me and my mom) and everything seems so rushed. The teachers freak out because there are seven school days left, no one has taught everything they needed to teach, people get sick from doing so much work, we try to plan birthday parties and going away parties, and it's just one big explosion of energy. The Junebug, not an old 50's style of dancing. And this happens every third June of my life, without fail, and of course, it's happening again this year. Only this particular June, it's magnified, because Tony's graduating.

It's still hard to believe my big old brother is going off to college. He still seems too young to go. Like someone is taking him away before he's ready and he'll just crawl into a corner and die there. Of course, I know he won't. He'll have a ball at college, he'll get all politically active and meet awesome new people. But it's a marker as to how much my family and my life have changed over the last couple years.

My mom always says that the Chinese believe that every 12 years, you start a new period of your life. Sitting in the boiling Spanish room this afternoon, ignoring "Do your workk, goiyes" and trying not to fall asleep, I thought about this. From the time I was born until I turned 12, my life was relatively linear, with the same setup, plus the occasional international move. My mom worked, first as an English teacher, and later as a diplomat, and my dad was a stay-at-home dad, as a carpenter, and later got regular work hours as an editor. I think of this period of time as my childhood. I know I'm still technically a kid now, but this was steroetypical childhood (and later, puberty) - playing with Legos and Hot Wheels in Tony's room, having my ridiculously long platinum blonde hair, and not really caring about the outside world.

Then I turned 12, and we moved to Trinidad. And that was when everything changed in my life. My dad, who had found his niche at an NGO in Dhaka, couldn't find work here, so he moved to DC, and now, two years later, they're divorced. We moved houses, from our dingy Fairways house that will always remind me of my father, to this new Westmoorings one, which makes me want to have people over and which my dad has never seen.

My mom has become an independent single woman, taking care of Tony and I by herself, and preparing for our move to Winnipeg, the first time in 25 years she's moved without my dad. Tony's grown into a real adult, drinking booze around the house and having a serious girlfriend. I don't quite know how I've changed. I got my ears pierced, twice. Got braces on and off. Met The Core. I like to think I've matured at least a little. I know I've definitely become more opinionated and more politically aware. I followed the elections and inaguaration carefully, the first time in my life I understood what was going on.

The American regime of Republicans (technically just one Republican) in office ended. We had another Olympics.

We're moving to Canada. Canada, and then the US, represent my next twelve, until I'm 24. I see them as the place where I'll really become independent, learning to drive, moving out and going to college. So maybe the Chinese are right, maybe each 12-year segment of your life is a new start, a fresh leaf, of sorts. Though it seems like a long time to wait for your life to be overturned again, so much has already happened in the first three years of my second segment - what does that say for the other nine I have yet to live through?

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Laaast night here in TNT was our school prom. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being "I was bored out of my mind", 10 being "I never wanted to leave" - I had about a 6. I wasn't particularly bored, because a lot was going on, but having just got back from Matura, I was pretty exhausted. We went out Leatherback turtle tagging (I'll write a later post about all of this in a while) - left the inn where we stayed at 7, left the beach at 1 am, getting back to the rooms and asleep around 3. We got up 3 hours later, to go on a relatively streneous hike (the one the previous day was more work) before leaving Matura and coming back to Port of Spain. I got home, showered, packed my bags, and an hour later had to leave the comforts of my room for a friend's house, to get ready for el prom.

I don't know where the tradition of getting ready with friends started, but I appreciate it. It's generally my favorite part of any party, except for when you crash into bed afterwards. Though tensions were running high at one point, it always feels good to get doled up all purty like. It's a self esteem boost that everyone deserves once in a while. That's why it's called "Prom", though. It's a promenade. It's an event where you put on makeup, shave your legs, straighten your hair, paint your nails, all for the purpose of showing off to the people around you. You strut around for hours looking gorgeous to get attention, and hopefully have some fun doing it. I leaned over and said to someone last night, "Aww, how cute, look at the freshmen with their feathers all plucked and noice." We turn into peacocks, displaying our colors for the sole purpose of having people look at us.

After arriving at prom, it was the usual "ohmigodd you look soooo prettyyy" comments to pass around, the posed pictures to be taken, and all the people to greet. I'll agree with Ed and James, I wasn't a fan of the repetitive soca music. Soca is relatively hard to define, actually. It's loud and pouding and it's only purpose is to get your toes tapping and your booty wiggling. It's played 'round the clock at Carnival, a national three-day party every March. Its perfect niche is at someone's dance birthday party, or, obviously, at Carnival. Prom, though, is another thing. Again, see Ed and Jamie's blogs for the whole description, but I'll just say that in comparison to American proms, it was pretty out of place. Come to think of it, though, in comparison to a Trini "school dance", it was exactly what you'd expect. The Trinis don't really know any better. They don't know that in the States, a live band is hired, who plays a balanced mix of fast and slow songs, and the night is more about socialzing (and electing prom royalty) then it is about dancing. To Trinidadians, any event where people get doled up, get together, and get funky requires some hard soca music. But I've come to the point in my three years where I've come to expect these sort of things from Trinidad, and I wasn't really surprised (though not entirely happy) when it was four hours of soca and 15 minutes of slow songs.

Now, after last week's madness, I have a nice, short, three day week, because there's yet another of those miscellaneous Trini holidays on a Thursday. I get to relax for these three days, and then begin the exam crunch - the two weeks where we're in lockdown as we attempt to pass some classes. Expect a birthday related post for my 15th, and a contemplative one about how best to do My Finale.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Here comes a post out of guilt. I haven't blogged since early May, for a lot of reasons, most importantly the play, "Fools" (for a long description, check Ed's blog, yet again). So I'll ramble until I find something to talk about, eh?

Things are weird in my life right now. Firstly, I've realized that I use the word "weird" too much. But other than that, I'm stuck in what feels like the longest week of my life. With a Biology test, the Matura trip, followed quickly by prom, it was already packed. Now, however, it's become worse, because I stayed home sick today. I'm not all that sick, actually, it's just that my white blood cells were slacking, causing my (adrenal glands to oversec--HA, just kidding) Kleenex box (phew!) to empty faster than my house of plants. A little explanation: we can't take any of our 5 billion plants to Cyanadia, so we're selling them all tonight and over the next few days.

On the topic of the moving process, I've decided to take my blog in a new direction, and this is the post to announce it. After making my and James' radio documentary (entitled "LOL"), and chatting about it at Spaghetti Night, I realized that a blog is not a diary, like I've been (sort of) treating mine. Don't get me wrong, I'll still keep my personal voice going, but talk about more the events in my life than just my random thoughts. Plus, now that I'm moving to Winterpeg, my blog will be a good source for my friends to know what's ACTUALLY happening during the move and once we get there, rather than the "BEBEE! MOMMAAA! I MISS YOUUU! I LOVE YOUUU! HOW'S CANADA?!? GOOOOD! COOOLLDD!" MSN conversation Jamie and I will have (but I'll love those too, Bebe :D). So, on that note:

Technically, by definiton, I'm what you call a "Third Culture Kid". I've figured out that since one parent can have Culture A (say, Latina), and the other can have Culture B (say, Russian), if you grow up with a mix of these cultures, plus all the other ones, you have Culture C, or are a Third Culture Child. Since my 'rents are American and English, and I only sort of identify with these, I get to be in the C group. It's a relatively small collection of kids, from what I've seen, but who knows, maybe they all hang out somewhere I've never been.

Long story short, I'm terrified of going to a local school in Canada, my first non-international one in eight years. In those schools (ASW - American School of Warsaw; AISD - American International School of Dhaka; and ISPS - International School of Port of Spain), kids coming and going every two or three years was common and expected. Getting five to ten new kids at the start of a new year wasn't a big surprise. But in American public schools, getting a new kid (god forbid in the middle of the year) is like an alien coming. I told my cousin's friend that I lived in Dhaka, and she asked a) "Where's Duckland?" and b) "Do they wear underwear there?". Case in point. Now, I've never been to Canada, so I wouldn't know, but being a private, non-international school, I wonder what exactlyt those Kanucks'll think of me? Will they, like small-town Michiganers, alienate me because I've lived abroad my whole life?

My mom and I were talking yesterday about using the public library in her hometown of Marysville, Michigan. I confessed how I feel so awkward going there, because everyone is cold and not all too friendly. She responded that all Marysville residents are like that if they don't know your family three generations back. But they do. My mom was born and raised in Marysville, just like her mom, and her mom, and her mom. They're like one of those old Southern families with a plantation, except they live in the North (and don't have a plantation). But because my mom is the scandalous one who lives in all these far-off places, her kids are like unknown travelers to the rest of the town. At Christmas, I was standing in my cousin's (whose name is Shayleigh, or Shay, to make this story easier) driveway with one of her friends (whose name escapes me, but who I'll call Ashley (since they all seem to be called that)). They were chatting it up, blah blah, boys and makeup, when Ashley said to Shay, "How long is your family here?". I had no clue what she meant, so assuming she meant Shay's OTHER family (as in, her dad's side (since her mom and my mom are sisters)), I stayed quiet. Shay then said, "I dunno", turned to me, and said, "How long are you here?" I told her, and she turned back to her friend and repeated my answer. Her friend "ohh"-ed, and the conversation continued. It was one of the most odd experiences of that trip - it was if the friend thought Shay would have to translate for me. Like, just because I live somewhere else, means I speak a different language too.

But I guess the majority of my mom's family plain doesn't get our lifestyle. Take my grandma, for instance, who knew we lived in Warsaw, but never said what country it was in, thought Bangladesh and India were the same thing, and now has given up on remembering the name "Trinidad" and instead asks how life is on "your island".

Kay, I'm now realizing this is a pretty epic post, but I wanted to make up for my month of absence. To concluuuude my rambling about my life: it's a weird (SEE? SAID IT AGAIN) way to live, but it's my way of living, and I'm okay with it, for now. As for the theory that we Thirdies (heh. hehe.) will have issues with staying in one place for more than 3 years, we'll have to see, eh? See - already talking like a Canadian.

PS: Thought I should add this. The title for this post came from a Spag Night conversation, when we were definining Thirdies and how I, apparently, am one. I said how weird this name was, and how it's such a label, when Mr. Kaster turned to me and said, "Oh, and you're lost, too, did you know?". "Shucks." I replied. "That sucks."

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

It's that time again, where I make an extremely long (or maybe short...I haven't started it very much yet) post about what's going on in my life. I suppose a more appropiate title for this post would be something like "My May Days", since this'll basically be an update on May, but that ain't my sttyyyyle, home skillet. Plus, for the last three days, Mai's line from the play ("Sometimes, zees can cause zee adrenal glands to oversecrete, causing a sudden rush to zee 'ead.") has been stuck in my and my friends' heads, and REFUSES to leave. PLUS, I had one of those killer 8-hour headaches last night, so I actually got to say that line. Winn.

So, what's going on with me. Rehearsals are becoming INCREASINGLY more frequent, given that the play is in, oh, nine days. This past Saturday, we had a long-ass rehearsal at school, where we, for the first time, did our makeup. Most of us in the play have to look pretty old (my character, Lenya, has a 19 year old daughter), so we did that makeup, only since it's for the stage, it's x10 as dramatic (da dum chee). The base layer I have to put on it is pretty orange compared to my usual skintone, which makes my eyes PAWP in comparison. It's SERIOUSLY WACK to see how I'll look when I'm older. I've predicted laughter lines and crow's feet, from the amount of smiling I do. But it makes you live longer. Right? RIGHT?

Vat else. SEE, THESE DAMN RUSSIAN ACCENTS ARE HAUNTING ME. In other news, the AP madness is nearly over. Eoin's done with his, thank god, but I can't remember what it was like before he got into the studying period. Wtf's it gonna be like now, I wonder? Mai's also done with hers, she took AP French and I'm positive she passed. Ed's Human Geography one is on Friday, and he'll pwn, because he keeps getting stuff like 74/75 on the multiple choice mocks. I always feel so grownup and proud of my bebes when they sound so smart talking about their exams. *sniff* Maybe I'm too much of a proud momma.

AP subject leads us to talking about my life. We all got the course selection sheets for next year (this was last Friday), and even though I'm not graduating from here, I'm still all ancy about what classes to take, and what do I want to focus on, and should I take AP Psychology? Read Eddie's latest post for more details about the process - but for me, this is all pretty scary. For conversation purposes, I'm just *pretending* that I'm graduating from here, making it easier to think about. But who knows? Canada could have a TOOOTALLY different system. Like this dual-enrollment thing, which for some reason I still don't understand.

I feel weird about the future lately. Which is why this post has that second title to it. It's a Bob Dylan song, whose voice (I think I mentioned in my rambling music post) always depresses me. It's just about how the way everything is now, will soon get flipped on its head. "The loser now, will be later the winner." Like that. It just feels like everything in my life is about to get picked up, shaken up, and plopped down somewhere else. It's, what, 46 days til I leave. 38 days til my birhday. 25 days til prom. 16 days til I get my braces off. 9 days til the play.

Negative days until the Scrubs finale. I've said so many times that I don't, don't, DON'T want to talk about it, because it'll make me cry. Because it will. I mean, if something has been a part of your life for 5 or 6 years, and it's suddenly over, you can't help but feel a little alone. Also because the finale (SPOILER ALERT DO NOT READ ON IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE SCRUBS SEASON FINALE) was all about JD leaving Sacred Heart, and how he's going to miss everything that happened to him in the 8 years since he was an intern, and all the people he's leaving behind, but also about the people coming with him. Made me think about when I have to leave - okay, sorry, Jamie, Ed, who read this and who I know don't want to think about it yet, but I think about it so much. It's this huge part of my life, picking up everything and plopping down somewhere else. But it's really not all bad. With Ches' karma-filled table, all of our stuff out of storage, my bike (YAAAY), the Tigers chairs (long story), and everything else coming with us, Canada promises to be wicked fun. So I am looking forward to it. But at the same time, I'm really not. I dunno, it's like this everytime I move. I get over it soon enough. Just wait til I have to write The Swan Song post (for some reason, that's the title that sticks in my head, after reading James' one after Feenster left).

So, yeah. Upon re-reading, most of that post doesn't make sense, so comment if you need some clarifying. It's just refreshing to put the jumble that is my brain these days into a post. Ahhhh, blogging FTW.

PS: The summary, in post-form, of my and Jamieson's *SCATHING* radio documentary about the internet - coming soon.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Yes, folks, it's that time of year again. Our play is coming up, and we're stressed, bitchy, and basically acting like big grouchy pregnant women. Sigh, though it's relatively boring to me, here's a synopsis of the play.

Fools, written in the early 80s by Neil Simo–to torture his soon-to-be-ex-wife. True story. He had to write a show where all the proceeds would go to her, so he wrote one that would fail on Broadway, and he suceeded. Rather pathetic that we're now doing that play HERE, but I continue–is the story (set in the 1800s) of a little town in modern day Russia, called Kulyenichov. Real or ficticious town, who cares, but the point is, a young man (Leon, the male lead), comes as a teacher to the town to try and edumacate them all. He soon discovers (SHOCKER!) that the whole town's cursed with stupidity. He meets and falls in love with a young village girl, Sophia (female lead), who he desperately tries to educate to break the curse. Her parents, Dr. Zubritsky and his wife Lenya Zubritsky (MEMEME) are mostly comic relief, but keep the story going. To break the curse, like I said, Sophia can be educated, or marry a Yousekevitch. The Yousekevitchs are this epic, classic family, who put the curse on the town 200 years ago. The "last of zee line" is Count Gregor (<3 joo Edwardo), who has a weirdie fetish for Sophia, even though she constantly refuses his too-often proposals. Blah, blah, lots of comedy, lots of rimshot moments (http://www.instantrimshot.com/), but a couple good dramatic moments. Come see it if that plot summary made no sense.

I do wish I was here another year–we've developed a "The Drama Crowd", of sorts, which'd be fun to continue. Me, Tara, Latricia, Manda, David are the recurring characters–left over from Looking Through You–with Ed, Mai, and Emma as newbies. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to spend more time at home, rather than breathing in that oh-too-familiar scent of the Drama room, but I actually like going to rehersals. I feel at home, I feel confident and individual, rather then getting sucked up in the big crowds at CAISSA or in the hallways at school. I love my character, I love riffing with Mai, my fake-real husband, I love guffawing every time Ed comes on stage, I love squirting out handsanitzer by the bucketfull after we all crawl around on the floor for an hour.

So, to all my Trini-based readers out there, come to the show. Dates below. It's a good time, it'll make you laugh, even if it's not the most educational or thought-inspiring thing you've seen all year. Plus, you get to ~Support the Arts~.

PS: After-Show-Party following closing night, just like last time around. This is always my favorite part of the experience. We get to finally, finally, chill out, scream until we lose our voices without feeling guilty, and maybe (as Ed suggested), chuck our scripts onto a bonfire. Tell ya friends, babay.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Fabric Softener --> my home life. On the weekends, at home, with my mom and brother, all I think about is fabric softener. The entire house is filled with the smell of Bounce, or Downy, or whatever we're currently using. My mom does the laundry, cooks and bakes for the upcoming week, Tony and I work our asses off (advancing the lives of our Sims and killing 1920s robots, of course) and get our spirit back from the past week and for the upcoming one. By the end of the day, the Bounce drifts upstairs, where our fresh laundry has been hauled - our beds, soft and clean, are made, and we collapse into them tasting toothpaste.

Spaghetti --> my social life. The outside-of-school-and-sometimes-at-home life, the one involving more adults than kids (the one that makes me feel 24 instead of 14). Going to Ms. Chesler's, or having tons of people to our place for Spag Night - whatever it is. Spaghetti, the taste of it, the smell of it cooking all day, the red wine that goes with it, they all gear us up for the upcoming night. The fact that we have school tomorrow doesn't even enter our brains for those three hours where we chat, gossip, and make snide comments, all making us (me) feel intelligent and self-confident. Hellssss, yes, I can hang out with two English teachers and an Algebra teacher and actually have fun. (Normally, this section wouldn't be included, but since I've just gotten home from dinner at Chez Ches, this feels appropiate.)

TicTacs --> my school life. Whether they're TicTacs or Eclipse, the one calorie breath mints say "school" to me. Chomping on them before, during, after, and in between classes, clicking open the lids and passing them around to friends, these mints, though they have nothing to do with the actual school part of school, they feel like the stress school brings - but at the same time, the chillness. Your tounge slides over and around them while you *attempt* to figure out an Algebra problem, and by the time you calculate your final answer, you've gotten to the point where you can chew on the mint without murdering your braces.

Jefferson --> my friends. If you don't know that Jefferson is my camera, scroll down a few posts (to "Yes...but have you NAMED them yet?") Even though we don't take pictures all the time, we always have out cameras at the ready for that moment when something hilarious happens and we just have to catch it on film. Whether prancing around to a Seether song, or gobbling melting ice cream at the speed of light, or huddling around a laptop to watch 300 (an nth time), my camera just says friends. Jeffy even comes to MovieTowne with us, though of course we won't be taking any pictures there. But he's there just in case, like my friends always are, capturing the good moments and deleting the bad ones.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Empress is a maternal symbol. She is the mother figure who loves, nurtures and protects.

She will protect you, she will always be there when you are in trouble. When you fall over and graze your knee, the Empress will kiss it better.

Yet she is not a weak figure. Her compassion is strength. If her children are threatened she will stop at nothing to protect them. If well aspected in a Tarot spread, the Empress can symbolise security, protection and unconditional love. If badly aspected it can represent over-protectiveness, fear of risk taking and refusal to face the real world.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

It was in Algebra this morning, when I wrote on my paper "1/4/09" and realized that this hellish month is finally behind us. For another glorious 11 months, I will not have to write a "3" in that second column of the date. I can revel in all the 4s, 5s, 6s (yay June) and much, much more, because March is IN THE PAST. Until next year. FINE, MARCH 2009 IS GONE. But maybe March rocks in a place with seasons? I can't remember anymore.

I haven't posted in foorrreverr, so time to do my once-monthly general sum of the last couple weeks. This is what comes from being a slacker.

Well, you know (if you read my posts...I reckon it's RELATIVELY obvious) that this past month reeeeaaallyy kinda sucked. But I refuse to be all "WOE IS ME" and complain about March, because it's OVER. So let's talk about the fuuuture.

Whenever I tell Eoin the number of days until I leave, he groans and asks, "That's how you deal with it?" Rah-ther interesting, I think. I guess it is, you know, how I deal with it. I'm looking forward to leaving, I'll admit it. I'm not dreading it. Okay, I'm dreading saying goodbye to everyone, obviously. But I'm so psyched for all the stuff that's happening at the end of this year. Tony's off to college (*nail chomp nail chomp*), and my madre, my perro, and I are off to Cyanada, where we'll get a new house (new to us. Maybe not brand new) and I'll be at a new school. I don't want to sound like some cliche woman in too much eyeshadow rambling about the faaahbulous things that come of being a Foreign Service kid (the new experienes, the traveling, the CULTURE!) but it is like "turning over a new leaf" (where TF did that come from? How does that expression make ANY SENSE?). Which is why I love the new school year, and the accompanying stationary, even if it's in the same school as last year.

So, I'm psyched for Canada. Wuz dee problem? It's the first time in my FS life that I haven't been totally depressed in the months leading up to the move.

Next topic: this PostSecret project thing for English. We're doing what they do on the website (check my Links section), only giving them into Ms. Ches and sharing them in our classes. Long story short, I have nooo clue what to write about. I can't decide if I want to do one about my parents, or a silly (but true) one, or a slightly serious but not as important one - BLURGH. Whoo knooows.

Spring Break's almost here. Just Thursday and Friday to do, then we're freeee. I keep thinking we have another week, it feels like that glorious beacon of hope has come too quickly. NOT COMPLAINING, I'm just saying.

Monday, March 23, 2009

I realized the other day that I have named 6 (count 'em, SIX) technological devices in my life. And not only that, but they all have a personality.

Laptop --> Flamingo, aka Flammy. Flaming gay, loves pink feather boas and Jamieson's laptop, Licorice. Is just himself. The Canadian in my group - pale, but sensitive, intelligent, just everything you'd want in a best friend.

Printer --> Louise. No nonsense. Bosses everyone around and always gets her way, but with a soft side. If she was an animal, she'd be a hippo, with a big booty and proud of it. She loves Flammy (the oldest friends) and will defend anyone who teases him to the death.

iPod --> Carmella. The sassy Latina. Bitchy and sneaky when she wants to be, but has a vulnerable side - every now and then, is very compliant. She and Louise have a history, and are best friends on and off.

Camera --> Jefferson. Named after Jefferson Airplane. Is Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde - his/her sweet transvestite side comes out late at night, and he/she rocks the city.

Desktop (family) computer --> Lucy. She used to be friends with all these guys, but moved away for a while, and recently got reaccquainted. She's a dumb blonde. She works hard when she needs to, but is known to get distracted and crash on unwitting users. But kind, deep down.

External hard drive --> Jake. He's new to my little world here, but he's a sturdy bodybuilder. Don't nix him yet, he's incredibly strong and always trustworthy. Andre the Giant type. Sweet and gentle, but don't piss him off. Is secretly in love with Louise, his female counterpart, but knows they'll never be together. You never plug a hard drive into a printer.

I've, apparently, always been creative. But I thought I "grew out of it". Actually, come to think of it, I'm glad my loony elements are still around. I love picturing all these people interacting with each other. Like we were talking about in English today, it's a microcosm. Elements of every type of person in the world, packed into one area, or one town, or, in my case, one room.

It's like the EPIC (Dr. K voice: NYYEEPIC!) soap opera Jamie and I are working on. We identify SO MUCH with all the characters. For example, Phil is pure. Gay, loving, loveable, emotional, heartfelt - he's perfect and ideal and we love him. More about this soap opera in a later post.

Meanwhile, some thoughts. "Tip of the hat, wag of the finger", if you will.

First of all, a GIANT wag of my finger to the anecdote: "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade." Ridiculous statement. If someone handed you a lemon, you could make lemon juice, which is just as sour as regular lemons. If life hands you lemons, water, sugar, ice, a jug, and a spoon, then you're in like flinn, but other than that? PFFT.

Next, a grand tip of my hat to Chuck, aka Koonoo, a character in the Judd Apatow movie, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, for sympathizing with me on my previous point. When sitting on a surfboard, floating on the sea, he says, "When life hands you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons', and bail." Hells to the yes.

Thirdly, a WAGGIE WAGGIE of my finger to my dog, Shada. We were in panic-mode this morning when we thought she ran away, and it turns out she had just been hiding under my bed. I went off to school thinking Tony had found her around the block, but he had actually found her inside our house. She's never run away before, so I don't know why she would want to. We still don't know where she was, probably just under a bed eating my Kleenex, with the sound muffled by my comforter. But we love her, and are glad to have her back...from...being fake lost.

Lastly, a tip of my tophat to my mom, who had probably one of the WORST days in existence today, but who is a good enough person not to take it out on her lazy-ass, good-for-nothing kids.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

these hips are big hipsthey need space tomove around in.they don't fit into littlepetty places. these hipsare free hips.they don't like to be held back.these hips have never been enslaved,they go where they want to gothey do what they want to do.these hips are mighty hips.these hips are magic hips.i have known themto put a spell on a man andspin him like a topLucille Clifton

Monday, March 16, 2009

Teehee. Not really. But Sims is what Tony calls a "God Complex" game, and I suppose that's true. You control the environment your characters live in, what they look like, who they love, even when they go to the bathroom or sleep. But when it comes to game play, I'm pretty different from the other Sims-ers I've met. I get sooo bored of making families. I always end up doing the same people, it's boring. Cmon already. But I spend hours on end desinging the ideal home for those families I hate making. Yeah, so, sometimes they look similar to other ones I've made, but I know what I like.

So, after finally finishing a huge "ranch"-esque house (not really, it just looks like a big ol' farmhouse from the outside), I got giddy and tried to bring it into my own life. Without a menu where I can pick any object in any color I could possibly want in my room, it was a little more tricky, but Tony and I did manage to move a couch from downstairs all the way into my room. Sweat + dust + shrieking + bellowing + "a few" giggles = that experience, but anyway, it's in here now. I got my rug back out, found a table from the patio (which I had to hose off, how cool am I), another table from downstairs, another armchair - it was insane. BUT NOW: I have a seating area in my room. Yeah huh huh. My mom's room would be the same size as mine, but it has an uber closet, and Tony's has a bathroom and uber closet, so technically, mine's the biggest. Meaning my bed, nightstand, desk, bookshelves, and mock makeup table (an end table with a mirror on it, score) look really, really stupid shoved up against the walls with room to flander (or get Broken - riiight, riiight) in the middle. Add in a couch, problem solved.

Yeah, okay, fine, you probably don't care. But only a few things can get me that high - organizing, stationary, toiletries, and desigining. Oh, and making newspapers for English. So yeah. Figured I'd write about it. (I'M NOT A DORK! I'M NOT!)

Sims 3 is coming out soon. The all-knowing Wikipedia tells us: The build and buy modes have been revamped. The square outlines that appear on the ground (often referred to as a grid or tile)—apparent when entering build or buy mode—are now four times smaller to give the player more liberty to place objects where they want. The square grid allows the player to see where they can possibly place the objects in the game. There is now an option to turn off the grid. This feature will make objects easier to locate at the player's desired location instead of being restricted to a bigger tile. Objects can also be rotated freely. Certain pieces of furniture, such as chairs and tables, can easily be moved together. Also, many small objects can be put on a table very close together as long as they don't intersect each other.

Though this really seems like nothing to the non Sims-er, this is HUGE (and, folks, we mean HUGE) to anyone who has followed the Sims games from Sims 1, where there were 3 levels of zoom and 8 pre-made characters. So the nail biting begins, while we nerds (though, you know, I'm okay with that) wait for a) the release of this fantasticoness, and b) my disk drive to get fixed. Teehee.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Bob Dylan's voice makes me horribly depressed, and I don't know why. "The Times, They Are A-Changing" in particular, makes me feel like bursting into tears. Why is that?

"For What It's Worth", by Buffalo Springfield, has random and slightly scary lyrics - "there's a man with a gun over there, and he's tellin' me I got to beware" - but it makes me feel hopeful. I think it's because it was the only song on the Forest Gump soundtrack I liked, back when we first got it.

Both versions of "Jailhouse Rock" that I know, by the Blues Brothers and Elvis, make me want to jump on a table, shake my knees, and then whip around to sing the opening lyrics.

Is it wrong that I despise Bob Marley? I've heard that he was a really cool dude, and said some cool stuff, but his music just plain pisses me off. And people have totally made him into a stereotype, like Bob Marley = weed and red+yellow+green. Period.

Little Richard kinda makes my head hurt. No offense to anyone who likes him, he just seems to have too much energy for me.

I hate that I'm sick of Coldplay. I played it over and over and over again once I got all four of their CDs from Feenster, and now I'm all "guhhh" everytime I hear their songs. I still like 'em, just in small quantities.

"Video Killed the Radio Star" is one of the saddest songs in existence. It's all about the old, vintage, and hardened being replaced by the pretty, new, shiny stuff. Like "the dreaded Marco" and Charlie did to Rob in High Fidelity: "He was just...a little more...sparkly?"

I always say that I hate covers (ie, the sh!theads Fall Out Boy re-doing "Beat It" -- how dare they), but I've heard the original "Mustang Sally", by Wilson Pickett, and I have to say, I prefer The Commitments' version.

I thought I would really, really hate Tupac, but I heard "California Love", and I kind of like it.

Dido should sing happier songs. She has such a gorgeous voice, but all of her songs are so sad.

I think Aretha Franklin should get more credit for being such a kickass singer. Instead, millions of little girls are growing up with Mylie Cyrus as their main musical influence. What. Is that. Seriously.

This is random, and off topic, but Wikipedia just informed me that a mall in Dhaka (the biggest in South Asia - who knew?) caught on fire today, killing 4 people and injuring around a hundred more. I went to that mall when it was still under construction, and even though I never had any real connection to it, I now feel rather miserable.

No one writes more random lyrics than Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Why is it that some bands, like The B-52s, seem to need the "T" in "The" to be capitalized, but some, like "The Eurythmics", it just looks totally wrong. "the Eurythmics" (which, by the way, is a wicked name for a band, even though I have no clue what it means) looks way better.

In the Tom Hanks movie "Big", he has to convince his best friend that it's actually him, a teenage kid, inside the 1988 Tom Hanks' body, and he does so by singing an inside-joke-ish song to him, something like, "We're goin' down down, baby" blah blah, then "Shimmy shimmy cocoa, WUH", or something. Ever since I saw this scene from the movie, I've really, really wished I knew all the words to the song.

I really don't like it when people name a song and an album with their own name. Like, if I was an artist, song = "Robin", album = "Robin", and my own name = Robin. It's just vain. And a little repetitive.

In Austin Powers 3 (the Goldmember one), he struts into a 60s club looking ultra fly, and "Shining Star" by Earth, Wind, and Fire (another sweet name) is playing. We, as a family, downloaded that song, from the then-popular "Kazaa", the Limewire equivalent. But, because it was pirate, it was named "Shinning Star", and now everytime I hear the song, I think of that, and I cannot help it.

Some songs are just too damn long. Yeah, I'm talking to you, "Marquee Moon", by Television.

You've run out of ways to wear your hair. Braid, with optional headband, or up and in a clip. The end.

Though there must be a million good books pertaining to revolutions or rebellions between 1700 and now, you can't seem to find a single one.

You find out that the next Scrubs episode will be aired on Wednesday, March 18th, two weeks from now. Phail.

For some reason, you're ridiculously tired almost 24/7, even though you seem to be getting more sleep than usual.

Your mom warns that she'll be physically absent for the next few weeks/months. Summit of tha 'Mericas.

The usual anguish involved with waking up in the morning has gotten much, much worse.

There are actually some good things happening this month, like your new lotion and deoderant (see posts relating to toiletries), but for some reason (maybe because they're relatively small) they still don't help.

You feel RIDICULOUS for writing such a morbid, "emo" post, but it's kinda the only thing you're thinking about lately. And the evil "you" pattern I started with got carried throughout and sounds weird in some of them. But who doth care.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Howdy, folks. So, I've been slacking. I haven't written anything on here in FOREVER, and I think I might actually have a topic. It'll probably last about a paragraph, but whaatever.

So, last night, the 81st Annual Academy Awards (why the overly-dramatic title? Who knows), aka Oscars (there you go) were hosted. It was the first time I've watched them all the way through, and I'm glad I did. But I don't feel like describing why it kicked so much ass, so instead, I'll just say - I loved Hugh Jackman before, but now I want to have his babies. Seriously, YouTube that shizz.

But as I sat there with Tony and my mom til about 1 in the morning, giddy when WALL-E and Milk won awards and inwardly groaning when Slumdog Millionaire got 8 (total, with 4 in a row - more about this in a bit), I realized exactly how different we are from this country.

Okay, so I could rant for aaages about the woes of living in Trinidad, and how I crave open-mindedness and, like, ONE Trini athiest (Jamie's agnostic self excluded, of course), but I won't. I'll just say, while the majority of the rest of this country was partying til dee break ah dawn, (actually, they kept going through dawn, because Jouvert was today) we, and friends of mine, were sitting at home, watching the "biggest event in movies this year".

And discussing Slumdog. So here's this part. Before I rant, let me just say that I have not seen the movie, so I of course can't judge. What my mom brought up last night, and what (I think) I agree with, is that the number of awards given to Slumdog is because of guilt. You know there are Americans out there who felt so good about themselves for going to see a movie about life in the slums of India. They think they're more aware, having seen that movie - "Ohh, did you know, life's really really bad for those kids? Soo sad. That movie should win 8 Oscars." etc. Ditto for Milk, really. I don't doubt that it was a fantastic movie, though, again, I haven't seen it yet. But come on, don't you think the Academy is maybe just tossing gay people a bone?

That being said: the two award winners for Milk, Sean Penn for Best Actor, and Best Original Screenplay, gave some kickass speeches, advocating equality and gay rights. Again, if you missed it, YouTube it.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

So, I've been avoiding. Lanora leaving affected me like nothing has in the last year. I just re-read Eddie's and Jamie's blog posts about her, and her comments on them. And I realized that I still haven't come to terms with it myself. I refused to talk about it at the time, and now, for some reason, a month and a half later, it's actually hitting me. I don't know why the reaction is so delayed. And I never really told anyone about it.

But Nora was my other half. Jamie is my other half, Eddie is my other half, my mom, my brother, my dog are all my other half. But Nora did it in a way that no one else did, just like Jamie does it in a way no one else does. But when you lose even one of those halves (sorry, Mr. Kaster, my fractions are totally not making sense), you can't help but feel really alone, even with a ton of close friends around you.

I've done this people leaving thing before. And I've pretty much gotten used to it. But what happened before Christmas break really made me start thinking about the time, 6 months from now, when I'll have to leave. It's weird to think that everyday, mundane things are going to be gone forever when I drive to Piarco airport. I'll still be able to draw Nessie, but no one around me could possibly understand him. Just stuff like that.

I love my friends so much. That's really all I can say about it.

And I can't even think of a title for this post. And re-reading it shows me that it makes absolutely no sense. And I don't know why I've password protected it.

There's nothing like the feeling of understanding. I've been behind a bit in school lately, mainly in Chemistry, but a few other classes as well. I'm trying as hard as ever, but for some reason, I don't seem to be getting as good grades as I used to. Eoin said this, and I think it applies to me as well: if you're naturally smart, you can coast through school on that alone. But at a certain point, it catches up, and you actually have to start working really hard to stay ahead of the game. I think my moment of "oh, holy crap, I'm gonna fail" was when I started High School, with Physical Science. For most of my life, I just "got" everything we did in school. It all came really easily, and an A on a test wasn't really a surprise. But these last two years, I've been bombarded with science, and fallen behind. I'm not failing anything (at least I don't think so), but I did feel, for a while there, like I was drowning in schoolwork. I was getting used to Kaster's Algebra style, learning how to juggle Chemistry and Biology together, and it all felt like way too much.

That's why understanding seriously kicks ass. It's underestimated. Like tonight, I was reading a section for Bio about DNA replication. I did what Jamie and I are famous for, making inademate objects have a real life story. Like our laptops being in love, or the Life Story of the Protein. So, when reading about the famous DNA helicases (they unzip your genes/jeans), I started to understand a bit. When I got to the section about DNA polymerases having a "proofreading" system in case they attach the wrong nucleotides, I immediately thought of Spell Check. I imagined a little Wall-E-esque polymeras zooming through the DNA replication process, and realizing he made a mistake, and zooming back a couple to fix it. So I understood.

Which is where the fuzzy feeling comes in. When you're drowning, whether in personal stuff or school, and you have a breakthrough, or an epiphany, or whatever you want to call it, all of a sudden, and I know this sounds cheesy, your tummy feels light. It does, okay? Like when I had my dramatic break-up convo with Chin. Beforehand, I was like, "Why the hell am I doing this?" So I double-clicked on his MSN name, and got the hell out of that one. It was so kickass. Or in Algebra. I was getting awful grades on my worksheets, didn't understand what were doing in class, and even went so far as to have a meeting with Kaster and my mom. After that, I decided to focus more on school, but that subject especially. I remember doing a worksheet, and working through it for practically an hour, but thinking that I understood it. When we got it back the next day, and I had 26/26 on it, I got the fuzzies. And they rock.

So this leads into my earlier post about my New Year's Resolutions, specifically, my one about Chemistry. Tomorrow we start actually doing work for the first time after exams. I've made a pledge to myself to pay a ton of attention in class, and try to drop the smarmy attitude I generally keep when in Koesterer's class. I seriously hope it's going to work, but I think it well. Ms. Chesler always says, if you're getting a bad grade on something, it's for one of three reasons: you're not smart, you're not trying, or you don't understand. She always crossed the first two off my list (which was nice), and decided I must just not understand. So, if that's the only problem, then I'll fix it in class tomorrow.

I know this is a long post, but I haven't blogged in forever, so I need to get it out of my system. I had an idea for a story the other night, and did the good ol' co-labbing with James over MSN about it. I really want to make it be rah-rah-feminism, because of The Feminine Mystique, Mad Men, and all the 50's swing music I've been listening to lately. Basic plotline: a girl, Kyle, is dating a jackass, Nathan. Her best friend, Jamie (a guy - I know, cutest name for a boy ever), is madly in love with her, but she doesn't know it, and he hates Nathan. Nate emotionally and possibly physically (though I'm not sure about that) abuses Kyle, but in the end she stands up to him, gets with Jamie, etc. Meanwhile, Kyle's mom (as yet unnamed) is divorced, and dating yet another jackass guy, named Mike. Aren't Nathan and Mike the most perfect names for abusive boyfriends? So, yeah, obviously, their stories parallel each other, and I'm determined to include this one line, said by Kyle: "If my mom won't do it, then dammit, I will." I think that'd be fun.

So, yeah, I've been feeling guilty about my empty blog, with only the title "Virtual Jukebox" staring at me. And now that I've finally posted...yeah. Feels good. ^-^

Saturday, January 17, 2009

An update on my life. I haven't been posting much lately other than rants and lists, so I thought it might possibly be time for something, GASP, worthwhile.

So begins another bi-annual exam crunch feast of insanity. People are totally in lockdown, not going out anywhere this weekend or over the next couple days. Or, at least, some of us are. The whole exam thing hasn't really sunk in yet for me, but I think that's because we're doing a new thing, and having exams on Wed-Thurs-Fri, instead of Mon-Tues-Wed. But I think it makes more sense, so that we can party on the weekend (lol).

I had such an organized exam study schedule, with Spanish on Thursday, Algebra on Friday, and Chem today. I think, instead, I'll do Span/Algy/and a tad of Chemistry today. This is probably boring to anyone other than me, so let's change the subject.

I think I've decided my favorite genre of music (sorry, new topic isn't all that dramatic). I don't know if there's a name for it, but right now, I have an addiction to oldies. The Rolling Stone Top 5oo Greatest Songs of All Time list has greatly influenced and improved my music taste. Blondie, Beach Boys, B-52s, Bee Gees, I'm loving all of these (coincidentally) B-named bands and artists.

My other favorite category is what I guess is called "Alternative", or, Tony says, "Soft Rock". Jack Johnson, Lenka, Coldplay, Dido, the Beatles. Anything that will lower your heart rate. A few nights ago, before the Biology project was due, I had a mini-panic attack. I staring writing all in capital letters over MSN to James, pulse raised, hands shaking, all that madness. Then I realized I was playing bumping Rihanna techno music. I switched to a little Jack, layed down flat on my bed, took some deep breaths, and forbid my friends from chatting in capital letters. Problem solved.

I've been tempted to install Limewire (or whatever) on my computer. But I don't like thinking that artists who have worked hard to produce songs don't get credit (money as well as "fame", I guess you'd call it) for them. So, lately, I'm trying to order CDs off of Amazon (ordering them from iTunes is another option). They take a while to get here, but I just plain like having CDs around. They also make my stereo a little less redudant.